You have to hand it to Rainey Kelly Campbell Roalfe/Y&R, the new Virgin Atlantic ad is arresting stuff.
From the first beat of the Frankie Goes to Hollywood soundtrack, those of us old enough to remember immediately know exactly where we are. Or when. There’s Wimpy, Our Price, Asteroids, the Rubik’s cube, a Big Country album, not to mention the miners – all extinct curiosities today.
Whatever happened to Wimpy, we muse, as a Virgin pilot, flanked by a retinue in lipstick-red, draws envious and admiring glances alike.
But the strapline, “Still red hot”, is a little lost in the glossy blast. How many viewers will be approvingly applauding Virgin’s relative longevity – 25 years don’t exactly make the brand a granddaddy – and how many will simply be transfixed by those “red hot” flight attendants, metaphors, no doubt, for the sexy brand?
Isn’t even the merest suggestion that Virgin’s success is linked with sexy female staff as outdated as those phones, specs and hairstyles?
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